Have What He Will
by 7.06andcounting
Summary: Side fic to 'Natural Selection'. Alternate POV of chapter 18. Plus follow on to chapter 19. In which 'boy meets girl' translates as 'Tim meets his match'.
1. Chapter 1

"**He that can have patience can have what he will."****―****Benjamin Franklin.**

**I have no ownership of Tim Shepard. **

**Like the summary says - direct tie to chapter 18 of 'Natural Selection', _that_ being Tim's POV of the following encounter, _this_ having another take on what's going on... I think it stands on its own, but _maybe_ better to read Tim first? Either way, if you read both, I'd love to know if you think they mesh. **

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"I know your brother."

"Oh, yeah?" I let him see I ain't impressed by the line. I heard it plenty of times before. I am impressed by _him_. I'm hoping he don't see that.

"Yeah." He gives a lazy smile. I think he sees. "He used to talk about his dog, Reb, all the time."

"That was _my_ dog!"

"He said you'd say that."

I have to give in and smile. Sounds like it ain't just a line, he does know Mickey. _Did_ know Mickey. He can't have seen him lately.

He tosses his finished weed at the plate that's become an ashtray."How is he?"

I shrug. "Five to ten. Eighteen months in."

"That ain't what I asked. But, okay." He looks around the crowded kitchen. This party blows. "You want a drink?"

"I don't know you."

He's genuinely amused, although it shows only in the way his eyes sparkle as he smiles slowly. "Sure you do. I'm Tim Shepard. Everyone knows me."

"Okay. You don't know me."

"Sure I do. You're Mick Halloran's sister, Trish."

Only Mickey calls me Trish. Most people go for Patti, if they're shortening the full thing. Usually that suits me fine. But 'Trish' sounds okay from Tim. I can put up with that.

"I came with someone. I think he's getting me a drink."

"What do you want? They got beer, beer an' beer. Far as I can tell." Ignoring my point entirely.

"I want bourbon." I wait for him to react.

Tim Shepard has a bottle of Jack in his inside jacket pocket. I saw him take a swig, then put it away, as he came in. It's taken him twenty minutes to get to this side of the room. He had a conversation with a ginger haired dude, bummed a weed off another guy and took payment for something from a kid with a busted lip. The cash went in his jeans, not his jacket.

He raises an eyebrow. "Might be your lucky night, then."

The options for a comeback to that are tumbling around in my head. I don't choose any one of 'em. I push myself off the counter top and slide my hand into his jacket. We're very close, for the second it takes me to lift the bottle. Then I head for the door.

It ain't quiet and it ain't full dark, but the porch is still an improvement. Too hot in the kitchen. Too many people.

This ain't a house with outdoor furniture. No matching set of chairs, no porch swing. I walk over to the corner furthest from the door and sit down, against the wall. Tim leans on the porch rail and watches me drink his Jack. It don't escape my notice that a couple of kids vacate the area, when they see who he is.

"You don't look much like Mick."

"Good!" I bridle. Mickey has a busted nose and the top of one ear sliced off.

"Nah, I mean, we all got the same hair color an' everything, in my family."

"Maybe you all got the same daddy. I guess that'd help."

He nods, shifts against the rail. "He's cool. Mick. I dig him."

Me too. Five to ten. I could be twenty five before I see him again. He don't let me visit.

"He musta been doin' his last time in the reformatory, when I was doing my first." And he was probably inside somewhere else when Tim got out. They may never have crossed paths again.

"First of how many?" I ask. Guys usually like to brag about that kind of shit.

"Reformatory? Just that one time." He smirks. "I was an AP student. They graduated me to County early."

Of all the things I thought I'd get out of Tim Shepard, amusement wasn't even on the list. I can honestly say, a sense of humor ain't what he's famous for. Like he's reading my mind, he continues:

"You wanna know something funny? I didn't even do it. The only time I got sent inside for a serious stretch, wasn't my fault."

"You sure you wanna tell me that? Don't you wanna keep every notch on your record?"

His eyes glitter in the light from the window. "Records don't got notches. You're thinking of bedposts." _I am now._ He looks at the bottle in my hand. "Am I getting any of that back?"

I hold his gaze and take another sip. Then I balance the open bottle on my hand. It starts to tip as he reaches for it and he snatches it up just in time.

"I don't remember Mick sayin' you liked to live dangerously," he says, once he's taken a swig.

"Yeah, 'cause that's what big brothers would like to think about their kid sisters," I scoff. "I was a kid still, when you knew him, an' he ain't seen me recently, has he?" That came out more bitter than I intended. Tim looks thoughtful and I remember he has a kid sister. I tell him Mickey won't let me go up to McAlester. None of us, not even Mom. Just Joey. Before.

"You cold?" He's frowning at me. I guess I am shivering. I start to stand up and I wobble a little, so he catches my arm to steady me. I don't pull away and I think he thought I would, but he covers his surprise well and we're real close, leaning against the corner post.

"So," he says, careful-like. "This 'someone' you came with. He expecting you to leave with him too?"

"Any reason I wouldn't?" I'm struggling to maintain my cool.

The only answer I get is a hard kiss that takes away what breath I had. I sway against him.

"I don't think you wanna go home with him." His arrogance is as breathtaking as his kissing. "I don't think you _are_ goin' home with him."

"I ain't looking to _go home_ with anyone." I get some hold on myself and my attitude.

Tim Shepard smiles slowly. This time he kisses me soft and for a long time. "You sure about that?" he asks, licking his own lip slowly as he stares at mine.

"You got a car here?" I ask rudely.

"Yeah, I got a car here."

"What kind?"

He laughs. "Why? You picky about what you ride in?"

"Damn straight."

"Might be your lucky night, then," he tells me for the second time.

I laugh with delight, when I see it. This is _not _his car. This ain't anybody's car on this side of town. This is a sleek black Sting Ray with the new style steering wheel made to look like wood. This car is _new_.

"Somebody's bawlin' over to the South side," I comment, running my hand over the hood.

"'Somebody' shoulda been watching their keys, then." He holds my gaze across the roof. "You wanna come home with me now?"

I nod.

I know a girl who let Tim bang her upstairs at a party once, thought he'd be driving her home after. He was gone before she even got dressed.

We pull up outside an abandoned warehouse.

"This is 'home'?" I sneer.

"Near enough."

Somehow, the place has a power connection. Once past the boarded up door, it looks like lights are on, in the back room and upstairs. I hear voices. Guys' voices. A door opens and a face looks out.

"That you, Boss?"

"Yeah, Sammy. You tell the boys I don't wanna be disturbed, huh?"

Sammy nods, like his head's gonna come right off. I follow Tim up the metal stairs. He don't tell me, or ask me, he just starts on up. And I follow.

So he ain't the 'candy and corsage' type of dream date. I ain't exactly the 'prom dress and white gloves' type of girl. One shotgun married sister. One convinced she's gonna be a nun. I'd say I'm the happy medium.

We go into what must have been the office. Still is, I guess, with a couple of chairs and a table that's trying to be a desk.

"What?" he says, as I look around the place.

"Thought it might be more comfortable," I tell him.

Tim pushes open the door set into the wall. In the inside room, he has a couch and a mattress on the floor.

"Well, that's more like it." I grin and walk on in. I watch him close the door behind us. I watch him watch me. I kick off my shoes and sit on the couch. "If you had a TV, we could watch the late night movie," I tease. "I guess we just have to make our own entertainment."

He's pretty entertaining. When he kisses me, I really can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing.

We end up on the mattress. Like it was heading any other way.

"Might be your lucky night, then." It makes him laugh that I use his phrase from earlier. But he also notices that I'm acting a little shy when he undresses me.

"You a virgin?"

I shoot him a look. "I'm seventeen years old. I live in this neighborhood." How likely is it?

"And?"

"And I did it with two guys before. One steady boyfriend. One hook up at a party."

"Which was better?"

I laugh and make like I'm thinking real hard. "Don't remember much about the party. I was kind of wasted. Maybe he just said we did." I pull a suspicious face, put on a shocked voice. "Why? Are you a virgin?"

Tim laughs. "No."

"Hey, it could be," I say, reasonable like. "Maybe it scares chicks off, you an' the whole gang thing. Maybe."

He rolls on top of me. "Mostly it turns them on."

"Why?" I ask, puzzled. "What's it to got to do with how good you are in bed?"

Tim kisses me. After a while I stop him.

"You got something to use, right?"

"I thought you was Catholic?"

"Luck an' a 'Hail Mary'? I don't think so." I make to roll away. He tells me to chill. He's got what we need.

After, he lights up two weeds and passes me one. I curl up comfortably, not crowding him. I tell him I don't wanna be too late back in the morning, so if he don't wanna drive me, I'll go soon. He tells me to stay put; he'll drive me later. I smile so he knows I'm happy about it, but I wouldn't be bawling if it worked out the other way. Same as I won't be griping if he don't call me, except for random hook ups.

I know how things work in Tim Shepard's world, because that's how they work in my world. He ain't never gonna be the type of guy who comes home to one woman for the rest of his life. He has other priorities.

He wants casual? I can do casual. I can do whatever he needs.

See, I pay attention.

I overheard a chick say one time, that he ditched her because she drank beer.

And another said that he got irritated that she couldn't tell one make or model from another, when he turned up in a different car.

I know a girl he slept with for two weeks straight. She really dug him. She made the mistake of telling him and she never saw him again.

He told one broad she was dumb as a house brick because she didn't care whether he took precautions or not. Said he thought she was out to trap him.

He don't want to do virgins, because they want to make a big deal of it. But he don't like out and out sluts neither.

He hates when chicks go with him only because he's a gang leader.

I know everything there is to know about him. I knew he was going to be at that party tonight.

Falling in love with him months ago, but doing nothing about it, would have sent most girls crazy.

But I know how to play a long game.

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**And so, the watcher becomes the watched. Think she can do it? Think he's not going to notice she's got a game plan? **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for the interest in this. I'm glad you like the extra dimension of what happens in Tim's life. This chapter fits after chapter 19 of Natural Selection. A little time has gone by...**

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I ain't dumb, I know he's banging other chicks. I hear things on the grapevine. But they stay as one time deals, hook ups that present themselves. I'm his only regular girl.

Not his girlfriend. He don't do that. I don't make a big deal of it.

He tells me that he digs that I don't make a big deal of anything.

If he could see the way my heart leaps every time he calls over the next few months, every time he wants me, he would know that I'm a goddamn liar. But I ain't pushing for more. That wouldn't work and if it did, I wouldn't like it. No one tells Tim Shepard what to do. I'm down with that.

I wouldn't change him none, even if I could. I seen dogs beaten into obedience that turned around one day and went right back to being wild, biting the person who thought they had 'em whipped. If they come around to you, on their own, that's different.

Part of me wants to rush for more, but I can wait. Take what I can.

I mean, he never compliments me much past sex talk, when I'm 'hot stuff' or sometimes 'the best' and I know it don't mean nothing, but I remember every time he says it.

And gradually, he calls me up other times too.

Like when it got to be warmer and he wanted to see a movie at the Nightly Double. Like, actually watch the movie and pay attention. It wasn't something I would have picked - some war movie, with Frank Sinatra - but Tim rustled up a real sweet ride and I got to sit in comfort, with his arm around me for a couple of hours, like we was a real couple.

Come summer, he took me swimming for the afternoon. Not at one of the popular places, just some out-the-way lake, no one but us there the whole time. He didn't even want the radio on.

I ain't gonna claim we never got it on after, but both those times he was quieter than quiet an' I think hanging with his guys would have trashed his mood. I know damn well that being with any of the other girls would've, because you gotta know how to party, if you wanna be around the Shepard gang. So, I think he knows I won't do that.

Because, despite those other girls, I am the one he gets with after a fight, when he's hurting. That ain't something to underestimate. He trusts me to see him when he's at his most vulnerable. It kills me to see it, but I don't never let that show.

Ice for his knuckles. Aspirin. Somewhere to sleep peaceful, once the adrenaline high is gone. Whatever he needs.

Then there are other times when he definitely don't want me around; when there's some deal going down, or he's got business to talk out.

I think I understand. I think he keeps different parts of his life separate.

Despite that, it startles me when I realize that I've never seen him pick up a chick since we've been sleeping together.

Don't get me wrong, I know it happens. Like I said, I ain't dumb. But I've been at parties, or at The Dingo and places with friends, when he's been there and we haven't been 'together' together. And I've never _seen_ him pick up anyone else. Sometimes he takes me home, even if we didn't arrive together, but he's never got with another chick _in front of me._

I don't know what to think about that.

It don't make me his girlfriend.

But one day, he goes up to McAlester and he visits Mickey, without telling me he's planning to. He says that Mickey looks good, he's doing okay, they ain't broke him and he's talking about when he gets out, which is a good sign that he ain't givin' up.

I tell him, thanks, that's good to know. Casual. He says that it wasn't no big deal, he knows Mickey won't let us girls visit. Also casual.

And we both know it's the most important thing in the world that he could have done for me.


End file.
